


Behind Closed Doors

by Awritingmenace



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokutsukki, Boys Kissing, Closet Games, Coming In Pants, Finger Sucking, Grinding, M/M, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Spin the Bottle, Tokyo Training Camp, Training Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awritingmenace/pseuds/Awritingmenace
Summary: Tsukishima resists the urge to curse, in hopes of remaining respectful to his senior, but some salt still manages to slide off of his tongue. “Look, your breath smells like a basket of rotting fish. There’s no way I’m exchanging spit with you like that.”Bokuto breathes into his palm, sinking deeper into the wall if that was even possible. "Ew... Yeah, it’s the tuna chips…”





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> So I was going through my old docs and found this thing, and decided to do some minor edits and re-upload.
> 
> I apologize in advance if I've switched tenses throughout the story.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

Tsukishima should’ve known better than to agree to join in on _club bonding activities_ , especially if said activities involved the teams of Fukurodani and Nekoma. He could be spending his time practicing, you know, the _reason_ for this Tokyo Training Camp, but Yamaguchi had persuaded him to some degree, Sugawara had batted his eyelashes, and Kageyama was a few steps behind him discussing some acceptable get-together games with Nishinoya, so he gave in (albeit reluctantly).

Now here he was half an hour later, openly regretting his decisions.

“No. Way.” Tsukishima deadpans, pushing his glasses up with his middle finger.

“Come onnn.” Kuroo slings an arm over his shoulder, “Those are the rules, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima extends his arms, gesticulating at the bottle pointing in Bokuto’s direction. “But your foot pushed the bottle after it stopped spinning.”

“Ah, but that was a mistake~”

“Tch. You looked right at-”

“Shh, young one.” Kuroo presses a rather sticky finger to Tsukishima's lips.

Tsukishima cringes at the scent of Kuroo’s breath as it tickles his nostrils: it was a repelling mixture of potato, cheese and tuna. Plus the heat that accompanies it isn’t too pleasant. But what crosses the line are the crystallized grains of salt being pressed against his bottom lip.

Tsukishima recoils with a curse.

 _I’ll just slide over here_ , he thinks, and removes himself from the uncomfortable warmth of his senior, ignoring the other’s whines. But as soon as he tastes the sugary bliss of freedom, he’s greeted with another challenge when Tanaka slings an arm over his shoulder in Kuroo’s wake.

He resigns to defeat; resorting to killing them both in the hidden realm of his mind.

“No running away Tsukishima,” Tanaka pokes his cheeks with (thankfully) clean fingers. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do!”

Tsukishima debates the possibility of anyone seeing him if he were to wrap his hands around Tanaka's neck, which is ridiculous because from their spot in the circle everyone would be a witness. He chastises himself for not devising a more sound method of murder, and instead shoots a sharp, “Fuck off Tanaka,” over his shoulder.

Tanaka laughs, removing his arm from Tsukishima's shoulders and standing up. “Just fulfilling my brotherly duties.”

Tsukishima only manages to squint before someone interrupts the group.

Bokuto heaves an exasperated sigh and leans back on his elbows. Tsukishima’s eyes **do not** trace his protuberant biceps.

“Is it that big of a deal? It’s just a little kiss Tsukki.”

Tsukishima hears Yamaguchi chastise Bokuto for using his nickname somewhere to his right, but Tsukishima doesn't say anything because he's trying his best to not falter under Bokuto’s gaze, but it’s proving to be quite difficult. The way he’s currently boring holes into Tsukishima’s composure sends a shiver down his spine. The cocky upturned corners of his lips suit him, and damn, the shirt he’s wearing looks as if it’s about to tear at the seams as it stretches over his chest, his arms; his waist...

“I have been told that I’m an excellent kisser!” Bokuto adds. He’s sitting upright now, his left arm resting easy on his raised left knee.

The thing is, Tsukishima doesn’t doubt that fact at all. He _wants_ to kiss Bokuto, has wanted to since he first saw the ace jog onto the court in those oddly sensual thigh high knee pads. Fuck, he’d willingly strip him right now if he wasn’t so damn prideful.

Tsukishima chances another look at the subject at hand and sucks in a breath. Bokuto must have sensed his train of thought because he looks him straight in the eyes and proceeds to lick his lips painfully slow. Tsukishima is grateful for the distraction Akaashi brings.

“Kuroo did flick it though,” The setter pipes. “That’s considered cheating.”

Tsukishima breathes a sigh of relief. "At least we have one other sensible person in the room.” 

Kuroo chokes on his snack, and Kenma absentmindedly pats his back with his free hand, while the other taps eagerly at his console's screen. Kuroo tosses a quick thanks to Kenma before squinting in Akaashi’s direction.

“Akaashi, you’re beautiful and all, but until you cure your god awful ashy elbows your word does not stand in this case.”

Akaashi sighs. "That was one time!"

"Twice."

"Just the kind of silly justification I'd expect from a pain in the ass." Akaashi says with a flick of his fingers.

Bokuto crawls towards Akaashi grabbing his arm with a bit too much force. “Akaashi, tell me it isn’t true.”

"Don't be ridiculous, Bokuto-san."

Akaashi stands to his feet, half eaten Tokyo Banana in hand, and a look of utter annoyance pulling at his features.

Narita and Onaga raise their heads from their shared phone screen in the corner. Kai, Ennoshita, and Fukunaga exchange glances; all waiting in anticipation, appreciative of the weird yet interesting change of events.

Washio, Daichi and Asahi turn a blind eye to the uproar, and Konoha remains oblivious to the current situation, mouth ajar as he sleeps about a foot away.

“First of all,” Akaashi flings his treat at Kuroo’s head, “I am offended.”

“You’ll get over it.” Kuroo quips.

“Secondly, no. I do not _suffer_ from ashy elbows. Honestly, if anything I'm sure I have the most moisturized skin out of our gro-"

"Nope!" Nishinoya cuts in, "Its definitely Hinata who's most moisturized. Have you seen the way his skin glows?"

Hums of agreement sound throughout the room.

Tsukishima is confused.

"Everyone, elbows out!" Akaashi declares, and soon after feet shuffle across the floor as members from each team partake in this odd **Moisturized Event**.

Tsukishima is still confused, and even more so wishes he had joined Kageyama and some of the others when they announced that they’d be marathoning some cat documentary series at the start of the night.  
  
“I guess even people as stoic as Akaashi can be weird at times. Right, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi says with a smile.

Tsukishima eyes Akaashi, who now lying still on the ground, eyes wide in shock, and sighs.

_Why’d I agree to this?_

Three fingers make their way up Tsukishima’s spine and he doesn't need to look to his left to know who's responsible.  _Kuroo_.

“Tsukkiiii~ just go in the closet.”

Tsukishima looks down at Sugawara who was now using Kuroo’s lap as a pillow, to Kuroo’s greasy lips, to the ruckus in the room, to Bokuto, and back again. He was so engrossed in this that he didn’t notice when Tanaka crawled beside him.

“You know you want too~" Tanaka sings.

And that was the turning point for Tsukishima. He'd rather be trapped in a closet with a beefcake than surrounded by these annoying pests.

He hops up from his spot in the malformed circle, steps over the chips and drinks splayed out on the floor, kicks Konoha's sleeping body aside, and yanks Bokuto’s wrist.

“You, let’s go.”

Bokuto hops up in record time, a low gladly on his lips.

 

\----

 

“So let me get this straight-”

“Gay.” Kuroo cuts with a smirk. "I think you mean gay."

Sugawara chuckles from his spot, balancing a single pringle on his nose.

Kenma rolls his eyes and continues. “You’re going to allow those two,” He gestures at Bokuto and Tsukishima's empty spots with his eyes, “to be alone in a stuffy closet for seven minutes?”

“Yep.”

Kenma drags his eyes back to the game in his grasp. He’s already conjured a list of eleven ways this could possibly go wrong.

“And somehow that seems like a good idea?”

Kuroo rests an assuring hand on Kenma’s shoulder. “I'm sure they'll be fine. Tsukishima doesn't hate Bokuto as much as he makes it seem."

Sugawara nods in agreement, two pringles now successfully sitting atop each other.

Kenma doesn’t look any more convinced.

“Kenma, trust me. I'm a level 100 matchmaker! I know what I'm doing.”

Kenma’s lips pull down in a frown at the Kuroo’s plans. “You better be sure."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure." Kuroo grabs a chip from atop Sugawara’s nose, earning a jab to the stomach in return.

 

\----

 

Tsukishima’s right eyebrow can’t stop twitching.

They’ve only been in here for a little over thirty seconds, but his irritation was already at peak levels.

“Bokuto.” He seethes, “For the love of Buddha, please stop sighing.”

Bokuto slumps against the wall with his arms and legs crossed, sighing pointedly once more. “Kisssss. Meeee.”

Tsukishima resists the urge to curse, in hopes of remaining respectful to his senior, but some salt still manages to slide off of his tongue. “Look, your breath smells like a basket of rotting fish. There’s no way I’m exchanging spit with you like that.”

Bokuto breathes into his palm, sinking deeper into the wall if that was even possible. "Ew... Yeah, it’s the tuna chips…”

“Wha-”

“Kuroo’s. Freakin’. Tuna. Chips.” Bokuto slaps his forehead with each word.

“I told him I didn’t want any, but that asshole practically force-fed me them!"

Tsukishima doesn’t want to laugh, he truly doesn’t, but the external combustion taking place before him is so hilarious he can’t retain the chuckle that leaves his lips.

“Don’t laughhh.” Bokuto drags. He flops on his side, legs meeting his chest to recreate a fetus’ pose. His eyelids flutter close, and he groans.

“I’m definitely not kissing you now, you big baby.”

Bokuto scrambles to a seated position, knocking over an empty bucket and a broom in the process. He quietly apologizes to the inanimate objects.

When his head turns in Tsukishima’s direction, Tsukishima can’t hold back the soft _damn_ dangling on his tongue.

“Gotcha! So you admit you want to kiss me?”

Bokuto’s eyes are slanted in that predatory way Tsukishima favors—it’s the look he gives his opponents when he’s about to bruise their arms with a spike. It’s hot.

 _Fuck yes!_ Tsukishima would give his right testicle to have those wet, luscious lips slotted between his own, but like hell if he’d ever admit that. He adjusts the rim of his glasses, and with God’s help manages to choke out a curt, “Nope.”

Bokuto inches closer, the gold of his eyes highlighted by the dim bulb above and removes Tsukishima’s glasses to set them aside.

“You sure about that Tsukki? Because,” He gently runs a finger up Tsukishima’s neck to his chin, before settling on his clamped lips. “I think you want to.”

Tsukishima doesn’t reply, but presses his back against the wall instead.

“Aww, are you shy?” Bokuto creeps closer; settling between Tsukishima’s raised knees.

“I don’t bite... much.”

Tsukishima looks everywhere but at Bokuto. He takes in the red pale knocked over a foot away, notices the dust gathering around the vinyl baseboards of the room, chooses to ignore the suggestive posters hidden behind a lone cardboard box, and even counts the black dots scattered on the ceiling—he does anything to keep his attention off of the finger rubbing at his lips and the hand massaging his thigh.

He tries not to think of Bokuto's hand as it travels lower, he pushes away any thoughts of those lips on his, he rips away the image of a warm, wet tongue on his neck.

_Why is he suddenly so hot?_

Bokuto pinches the inside of Tsukishima’s thigh and slips his finger past Tsukishima’s lips when he gasps.

Tsukishima is at a loss for what to do. Having Bokuto’s broad body hovering before him is intimidating. He feels trapped, but, he doesn’t mind it.

His mind surfs back to the warm finger pressing onto his tongue. _Does he suck it? Does he bite it? What??_ Bokuto is obviously waiting for him to do something so using his usual method of deduction, Tsukishima confidently goes with the second option and bites down on Bokuto’s finger.  
Bokuto reels his finger in with a sharp ouch.

_Wrong choice!!_

Bokuto giggles. “You’re supposed to suck on it, not bite it. I mean, at least not that hard.”

Tsukishima looks low in embarrassment, but Bokuto's finger hovers near Tsukishima’s lips. “Try again.”

Tsukishima opens his mouth voluntarily this time around, his eyes squeezed tight—grateful for the quiet encouragement in Bokuto’s tone.

“That’s it. Now try grazing it with your teeth.”

Tsukishima obeys.

The low moan that greets Tsukishima’s ears sends a jolt through his body. He wants to hear it again. He pries his eyes open slowly; determination replacing some of the fear that floods his veins, and looks Bokuto straight in his eyes.

Tsukishima sucks hard at the finger in his mouth, smiling to himself when Bokuto releases a long hiss. He twirls his tongue around the digit then pulls back until the thick knuckle hits his teeth. Tsukishima latches onto Bokuto’s finger again, and drags his teeth along the flesh until the finger in its entirety is resting on his tongue.

 _This is similar to sucking those big shot popsicles_ , Tsukishima thinks.

Bokuto jabs at his lips with another digit, but Tsukishima stops him with a grip to his wrist.  
The extra slivers of light gracing Bokuto’s lips through the slanted panels of the closet door only further prompt him to say what’s on his mind.

“Kiss me.” Tsukishima croaks. “Now, please.”  
Bokuto doesn’t need to be told something twice.

It’s awkward at first, as their hands and lips search for each other’s boundaries.

Bokuto runs his hands up Tsukishima’s sides hastily before opting to grab both of his cheeks. Tsukishima rests his palms on Bokuto’s waist.

Bokuto doesn’t kiss him right away. His mouth lands soft against the edge of Tsukishima’s lips testing Tsukishima’s resolve.

Tsukishima is in no mood for waiting though. He opens his mouth in submission; his tongue darting out to lick Bokuto’s lips. He needs his touch, just wants to feel Bokuto’s lips on his body.

Their exchange is enthralling.  
Bokuto’s lips are smooth and experienced. This is obvious in the way he mouths at Tsukishima’s collarbone for just the right amount of time before moving to his upturned neck.

It’s too much to absorb at once. Tsukishima loves the tickles the invisible hairs of Bokuto’s growing mustache leave in their wake, he soaks up the low moans and hums Bokuto breathes against his shoulders, neck, and lips, he smiles whenever the sweaty bump of Bokuto’s nose brushes against his as they tilt from side to side—he relishes it all.

Tsukishima’s lip tremble as Bokuto’s hand works at his shirt, but he asks Bokuto to meet him at his lips instead. He’s not ready to expose himself here.

Bokuto obliges with an even better unspoken offer. His lips crash against Tsukishima’s once more and Tsukishima pushes down the urge to scowl at the disgusting taste of tuna and cheese, instead focusing on the tongue mingling with his.

Tsukishima’s unsure with his movements, but Bokuto understands and Tsukishima gladly lets him steer the reigns.

Bokuto leans backward resting his weight on his behind, pulling Tsukishima along with him. They never part, even as Bokuto’s back hits the ground, even when Tsukishima has to angle his legs awkwardly because of the tight space—they never part.

Bokuto flips them over carefully, but hurriedly.  
Tsukishima starts thinking about the seven minutes that are sure to almost pass, but when the hard folds of Bokuto’s pants rub against his dick, he throws the concern away.

He bites down a moan, and involuntarily raises his hips to meet the hardness in the other’s pants. Bokuto holds Tsukishima’s hip in place, and slowly drags his own hips down, upward and down again.

Tsukishima inhales sharp at the repeated contact.

“You like that don’t you.” Bokuto states, pushing down onto Tsukishima’s groin.

Tsukishima doesn’t answer, but if the bump in his shorts is any indicator then Bokuto could easily decipher the silence.

Bokuto rocks down slowly, languidly, and moans in contentment when Tsukishima pants below him. “You didn’t answer me.”

Tsukishima glares at Bokuto, but an answer doesn’t escape him.

Bokuto closes his eyes with a quiet laugh.

“You don’t have to say so. I know you do.”

As if to prove his point, Bokuto rolls his hips between Tsukishima’s spread legs, receiving a whimper at the action.

“Since you want to stay quiet so badly…”

Bokuto tightly folds his fingers over Tsukishima’s lips. “Then I’ll help you.”

Tsukishima moans into the warm skin.

“I knew you’d be like this.”

Tsukishima averts his gaze. He can’t look into those hungry eyes.

“Imagine this Tsukki,” Bokuto’s eyes widen just as a guttural moan decides to crawl from his throat, “Imagine if I was inside of you like this.”

Tsukishima’s breath hitches against Bokuto’s palm. Oh he has imagined that on several occasions. He thinks of Bokuto’s wet lips on his nipples whenever his own fingers drag over the buds at home. Tsukishima gets off to the thought of Bokuto’s thick dick ramming into him mercilessly. He wants Bokuto, but he knows he’s not ready.

“I bet you’d be so deliciously tight around my dick as I thrust in over, and over, and over again.” Bokuto pointedly thrusts harsh with each enunciation of the word, smirking at the way Tsukishima’s eyes shut with creased eyebrows.

“I’d gag you so that you couldn’t speak. You seem to really like that, aren’t I right?”

 _Yesss_.

Tsukishima moans into his palm, his fingers digging into Bokuto’s wrist.

Bokuto chuckles deep. “You’re so cute. Do you want to know what else I’d do?”

Tsukishima whines with need in reply.

“I’d prop you up on all fours with your wrists secured behind you. I’d grip the back of your neck and shove your face into the mattress; I’d make it so that you couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but take me in until I’m done.  
I’d wreck you Tsukki. I’d slam into you until your legs ache and your cock is full, and then I’d come in your ass because I know that’s what nasty, little boys like you like.”

Tsukishima is close and Bokuto’s words are playing an active role in that problem. He can’t help but envision everything his senior says. He mewls, latching onto every word that leaves Bokuto’s lips.

“But I wouldn’t let you come, nooo, I’d force you to restrain yourself until tears brim in your pretty eyes. Fuck...” Bokuto drags, “I really want to fuck you one day Tsukki."

Tsukishima is known for the way he always has a tight leash around his composure’s neck, so why is he sweating? Why is he moaning so easily? Why is he allowing Bokuto to ravage him like this in a closet?

Why is he enjoying it? Because he _wants_ this. He _wants_ Bokuto.

Tsukishima mumbles words of approval against Bokuto’s palm, but never moves to remove the fingers clasped over his lips. He enjoys the rough grip.

Bokuto looks magnificent above him. The sensual movement of his waist as he rolls back and forth is hypnotizing. His little huffs and moans are a blessing in disguise. The bulge of his arms as he pushes down on Tsukishima’s mouth is beyond erotic. The way Bokuto’s collarbones and neck are accented by the dim ceiling light whenever he angles his head upwards, makes Tsukishima want to lap at the visible skin. The nails digging into his pelvis border on painful, but he wouldn’t dare remove them.  
Tsukishima now has enough fap material to last him for another year.

_He loves this._

Tsukishima feels as if he’s floating on cloud9.

This all reminds him of when he’s seated at the peak of a rollercoaster—the anticipation, thrill, fear, and contentment he feels as he stares at his surroundings before he drops, and as much as he seeks release, he does not want to drop.

His hands grip at Bokuto’s biceps in warning.

Bokuto smirks down at Tsukishima’s messy hair and sweaty face. “Come with me.”

Bokuto squeezes Tsukishima’s cheeks a bit harder as the speed of his thrusts increase. He stares into Tsukishima’s eyes with a hooded gaze; his bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he tries his best to keep quiet.

Tsukishima comes with a muffled whine, his hips bucking upwards in search of any kind of friction, and Bokuto comes a second after; his eyes clamped as he pushes down one last time.

Bokuto drops atop Tsukishima, the stray strands of his hair tickling his neck.

Save for their ragged breaths, it’s quiet, _too_ quiet.

“You know, your eyebrows do this thing when you come.” Bokuto teases, propping himself on his eyebrows--trying his best to mimick Tsukishima's expression.

Tsukishima dismisses the comment with a soft, “Shut up.”

He closes his eyes and exhales through his mouth in hopes of slowing down his heartbeat, but before he can properly try, a wet tongue licks at his nose. And yet despite the disgusting feeling of cool air hitting the wet spot on the bridge of his nose, Tsukishima can’t help but laugh.

When he opens his eyes, Bokuto is staring at him; eyes hooded and longing, and Tsukishima can’t quash the urge to kiss him, so he grabs the back of Bokuto’s head and raises his own to meet Bokuto’s halfway in a sloppy kiss.

Tsukishima pulls away with quick breaths, and forces them both to a seated position, grateful when Bokuto passes him his glasses.

“By the way,” Tsukishima returns his glasses to their rightful place, “When I’m older... I, um, wouldn't mind us actually...”

Tsukishima can't find the courage to complete the sentence. His fingers scrape at the floor.

Bokuto’s eyebrows almost merge with his hairline. “Oho, naughty boy!”

“Nevermind. I take back what I said.” Tsukishima rushes to his feet, but Bokuto follows suit and before he knows it he's pushed against the wall.

Bokuto smirks.

"Whenever you think you're ready to take my cock, give me a call. I'll be waiting." Bokuto says before connecting their mouths once more. Tsukishima melts into him, fingers dragging down Bokuto's wide back.

 _Whenever I'm ready._..

 

 

 ----

 

The first thing Tsukishima notices when they exit the closet, is that all eyes are on them.

Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind, so Tsukishima puts on his usual mask of indifference and heads for the bathroom.

Tsukishima swears he hears an, “I told you,” being whispered behind him before two familiar voices sound near his ears.

“Well, did you have fun Tsukki~” Kuroo shimmies at his side with a grinning Sugawara in tow. Tsukishima only sighs in reply.

“Oh I’m sure he did.” Sugawara gives him a onceover, “Just look at his pants.”

The duo laughs, and Tsukishima chooses this moment to slink away.

 

 _Only three more days of training camp to suffer through_ , he thinks, but as his eyes land on the broad expanse of Bokuto’s back, Tsukishima knows he’ll be doing everything but suffering.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hesitate to leave a comment no matter how short (or long). I do appreciate feedback :)
> 
> I haven't been in the fandom for a while so i hope that the character's personalities are still true to how they are in the manga.
> 
> Let me know if you'd like a part two and if so with who and doing what.
> 
> Until next time


End file.
